


Mournful Hope: the rebirth of empires

by ShanleenKinnJaskey



Category: Ellarycelery123, Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Based on the works of Ellarycelery123, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I Made Myself Cry, Kidnapping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-09
Updated: 2014-11-05
Packaged: 2018-02-12 10:07:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 17,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2105697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShanleenKinnJaskey/pseuds/ShanleenKinnJaskey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As World War IV approaches, two new countries are called in to help- Jordana Riley, soon to be known as kick butt Israel, and Miguel Olivarez, soon to be known as Portugal- and they team up with the original countries (as well as some new ones) to defeat the old Empires. With her best friend Portugal and her love America by her side, Israel might be able to survive the trials ahead and defeat the Empires. But if not, the world could end...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Battle Trance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ellarycelery123](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Ellarycelery123).



"I must lose myself in action,

lest I wither with despair."

-Lord Tennyson

 

This is not just some average Hetalia fanfic about a normal kid who became a country. That is what happened to me, though in a much different way than you think.

My name's Israel now, but it used to be Jordana Riley. My personality was a lot different too. I used to be a sarcastic, smart, mostly nice fangirl. Now I'm calloused, hard, and cynical, though I have to admit I'm still incredibly sarcastic.

I'm now best friends (and some might say more than friends) with America. Okay, you got me, we might have shared a kiss or two. He's a lot deeper in person than he is in Hetalia. He's loyal, brave, and a lot smarter and understanding, though he does still love his burgers.

My old best friend Miguel is now occupied with the other European countries (he's Portugal), but when we first became countries we spent a lot more time together. Well, we had to, with training, being captured by the re-formed Empires, and World War IV. No, I'm not exaggerating, World War IV really did happen.

You want to know the whole story? Then I'll tell you.

 

It all started when America and England stepped out of my computer. Well, the other Axis and Allies countries did too, but America and England came first. As usual (well, according to the show) they were squabbling. About what, I didn't know at the time, but I was focused on more important matters. Such as WHAT TWO HETALIA CHARACTERS (one of them my favorite) WERE DOING POPPING OUT OF MY COMPUTER AT TEN IN THE EVENING!

"Come on, Britain!" America protested in response to whatever England had just said. I've always been good at reading people's emotions, and from the slightly narrowed eyes, the pressed-together lips, and the vein on his forehead that stood out slightly I could tell that this wasn't just your ordinary-everyday-sibling-spat. This was serious. And the feeling emanating off of America kept me from freaking out like I could see Miguel doing out of the corner of my eye.

"You know why we can't do that, America," Britain replied.

"Hey, you two!" I interrupted, waving my hand. "Over here! Would you two mind telling us what's happening?"

And of course that was the moment Italy, France, Russia, and Japan decided to show up through my computer. "Oh, the new countries are here! It's so exciting! Hey, do you guys want a white flag? I have plenty!" Italy asked at the speed of light. Miguel ran up and gave him a huge hug. I gave a small smile. I knew that though he had a huge crush on Hungary, Italy was without a doubt his favorite country. I myself preferred America, England, and Japan.

"ITALY!" Miguel gushed, "Oh, you are SO awesome!"

"America, can we pretty please keep this one? I really like him," Italy managed to plead with America even as he was getting the life squeezed out of him. I was reluctantly impressed- I had been on the receiving side of one of Miguel's hugs and it wasn't pretty. Most people could barely breathe, let alone talk in full sentences. But then again I guess Italy's chatterbox was unstoppable under any circumstances.

France walked up. "Why did you leave without us, you two? You're not supposed to do that, you idiots!" He put his hand on the hilt of his sword, glaring at America and England. It looked like he was going to attack the other two countries. Without even realizing what I was doing, I flipped backward, grabbed one of Miguel's fencing foils, rolled forward, kicked France's feet out from under him, and hit him on the head with the foil as he was coming down. I came out of the trance, shaken, but i managed to notice that while I had been attacking France everything had been faintly tinged with red. The bloody sheen was gone now.

I turned around nervously to see Miguel and the other countries staring at me in surprise. Miguel let go of Italy and stood up slowly, shock in his eyes.  
I partially recovered. "What, you haven't seen a girl kick butt before?" I said, a tone of you-better-not-say-no in my voice.

America grinned, his eyes sparkling in amusement behind his glasses. He probably wasn't used to a girl having such spunk. Well, he was America- he needed to learn more about his modern day citizens. "I like you," He said, and stuck out his hand for me to shake, "Not many people have the guts or the skills to take on any one of us, even France here." I shook it, a smile pulling at the corner of my lips.

Suddenly Germany and a girl emerged from my computer, holding hands. You all know what the major countries look like, but this girl was new. She had long peanut-butter colored hair tied up in a ponytail, tanned skin, and emerald green eyes framed by long black eyelashes. She was tall and lean with high cheekbones and taut muscles. She was wearing a black jumpsuit and a smirk, and I immediately decided that I liked her. I later learned that she was Croatia and that she and Germany were together. Normally it was only the Axis and Allies that came to recruit new countries but that this time she was permitted to tag along for two reasons: one, because she had helped defeat Prussia during World War III, and two, because she had Germany's respect and love.

"Vhat are you doing vith zhe new countries, you idiots?" Germany demanded, his nostrils flaring in anger as he took in the sight of France groggily getting up off the floor, an angry red welt rising on the back of his head.

"Nothing, Germany, old pal," America replied, clapping him over the shoulder, "It was France's fault as usual. He was mad and was about to go crazy and attack us when this awesome girl went all ninja (sorry about the stereotype, Japan) on him and kicked his butt." America was reverting back into the kick-butt-happy-hero-saves-the-day-attitude.  
Germany turned to back to me, one eyebrow raised in appraisal. "Not bad," I thought I heard him mutter, but that might have just been my imagination.

"Okay, ve need to get zhe new countries back to zhe World Conference Islands," Germany said. "Italy, you can take the boy. Obviously he's okay with you." Germany looked at the other options, discarding each in turn. He focused his gaze on America, apparently deciding he was the least of all evils. "America, you can take the girl," He said with a sigh.

He turned back around and jumped into the computer, taking Croatia with him. Japan and Russia followed right behind then Italy dragged along a happy Miguel, chatting the entire time. Then went France, holding the back of his head and muttering angrily in French under his breath. America took my hand. For some reason I was okay letting a guy lead me along for once. "Ready to go, my young Amazon warrior?" He smiled softly, and I found the will somewhere to roll my eyes as if his gaze had nothing to do with my suddenly fluttering of my heart.

Then we ran forward and into the swirling glow of the computer portal.


	2. Heart of Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jordana learns which country she's destined to be...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer- any quote that is not credited to someone is from Christina Perri's song 'A Thousand Years'.  
> And no, I AM NOT A TWILIGHT FAN.   
> LET ME SAY IT AGAIN- I. AM. NOT. A. TWILIGHT. FAN.

_"Heart beats fast_

_Colors and promises_ "

 

We slammed down into the floor of a meeting room on the other end of the portal. My knees jarred and I bit my bottom lip in order to keep from crying out in pain. I felt nauseated and felt like I was going to throw up.

America saw my expression. "Are you okay?" He asked, a slight hint of worry in his voice.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I hissed through my teeth. I reached up my hand. "Just help me up."

He grinned, grabbed my hand, and pulled me up. "Thanks," I said, and walked the few steps necessary to reach a chair at the circular table. Farther down I saw Miguel sitting between Italy and England. He and Italy were talking so fast no one could understand what they were saying. England was just sitting there with an impossible mix of amusement and incredulity on his face.

America plopped down beside me and stuck his boots on the table. Good ol' American, I thought.

All around the table the other countries looked at America with distaste but I couldn't help but admire his bravery (or would it be recklessness?) that allowed him to do whatever he wanted without worrying about what others thought.

I saw Russia heading toward the empty seat next to me and nearly puked with dread. Thankfully, Japan beat him to it in a way only Japan could- in the most gracious way possible, without any mention of the other country at all.

He just showed up at the seat silently, with no sound at all. "Do you mind if I sit here?" He asked, the slightest hint of a smile on his face.

"No, not at all," I replied, more than a hint of gratitude in my voice.

Japan sat down and Russia glared at him, forced to take the seat across from us next to France.

"Hey, guys!" America said, clapping to try to get the other countries' attention, "I think these two deserve some answers."

"I would very much like to be explaining the story to the new countries." Russia said while raising his hand.

The others looked like this was an rare occurrence. "You do?" They asked unanimously.

"Yes, I want this one to become one with me, she is tough, like Croatia," He glanced over at Germany and his female friend. Oh, so that's who that was! "Although I'm pretty sure Belarus won't like it." He chuckled, a faintly cruel sound.

"Uhh…" I started, unsure of how to respond.

America face-palmed. "Russia," he sounded exasperated, "You want every new country to become one with you, and you always know Belarus won't like it!"

"I want a new territory to control too, Russia. Why do you always get the new territories?" France stared hungrily at Miguel and I.

My breathing sped up slightly as I began to freak out. I pushed back my chair, trying to get up. "It's okay," America murmured, putting his hand on the back of my chair in order to prevent me from getting up, "He won't get you, I promise."

"I'll do the explaining." He declared to the rest of the table. I figured that was okay with me, and so I didn't argue with him and let him speak.

"Every year," he began, "We select two children at random to take on the personification of a country. We all started out that way. I, for instance, started out as a little boy living in the Colonies during the Revolutionary War, before…" He stopped, but I was an A plus history student. Only an idiot wouldn't have known that he was going to say something about America rebelling against Britain. In that moment, as I looked into his reminiscent gaze, I remembered the story of how Britain had been about to shoot him and hadn't been able to. I watched as for a split second Britain and America locked eyes, then quickly looked away. "We take human children and we change them into countries. It started out with only a few of us, but as relationships with so many other countries grew there needed to be more countries around, so the process grew and changed."

"I have a couple of questions. One- so you're basically saying that all this anime stuff is real?" I asked.

"Yes," America said.

"Two- how does someone get chosen for the job?"

"Well, you have to embody the traits of your country for one. Almost all countries had an interest in history before they became, well, countries. And many have special...what's the term I should use...talents, like you." He smiled at me before continuing on. "Even before I became a country I could heal fast. Germany's an uncommonly good marksman, Japan is faster than you'd think, Russia's stronger than an ox, and Britain can burn any food he touches."

"Hey!" Britain protested as the other countries chuckled. France, Italy, and Miguel outright laughed.

"Does that answer your questions?" America asked, turning back to me with a mirthful glint in his eye.

"And finally, three- how do we become countries?"

"Glad you asked," America responded. "Are you guys ready to become countries?"

"I don't see anything wrong with that. What could go wrong?" I asked. Croatia made a small, weird sound deep in her throat. I turned to look at her but she looked normal. Weird, I must have imagined it.

"England- why don't you lead us down to the world map?" America offered.

England nodded and led us down a hallway. The cream- colored walls were beautiful with delicately carved arches and marble pillars laced with gold that cradled beautiful oil paintings of famous events in history- the end of the Revolutionary War with America standing over Britain, the split of North and South Italy, and Croatia's defeat of Prussia among many others. It took America's hand in mine to pry me away from staring at the beauty that surrounded me.

"This is so exciting!" Italy exclaimed from in front of us. "What country do you think you'll become?"

"I don't know," said Miguel, "how do I choose?

"It is actually quite easy," said China, "you stand on this Giant Map of the world, and when the moonlight touches you at midnight, the country you become will light up on the map. Most of the time, though, your ancestry or where you live plays a role in what country you get."

"We're here," said England softly as he opens the door.

This room was completely empty except for the moonlight that spilled through the huge arched windows and the slightly raised up world map on the floor. I looked closely at the map. The ocean was made of a beautiful aquamarine stone and each country was inlaid with a certain material. China was laid out in creamy jade, America in a rich tiger eye, France was amethyst, and Germany was made of a sort of silvery stuff that I could only call mother of pearl. The world never looked so delicate and beautiful.

"It is time," said Japan. "You must stand on the world."

I reluctantly let go of America's hand and stepped up onto the map while Miguel moved up next to me. "Good luck, Jordana," Miguel whispered, and squeezed my hand reassuringly.

"You too," I replied quietly, slightly daunted by the situation. I squeezed his hand back and then let go. The moon suddenly felt brighter

My head begins to spin…no, wait…the earth underneath my feet is what's turning. "Close your eyes!" Britain commands. I decide it best not to refuse. My eyes shut. The map keeps spinning, spinning, spinning…

It felt like the moonlight has gained weight. I could feel the life force getting drained out of me and sucked into the map below. Something was pulling down on my shoulders, drawing me down toward the map. My heart rate quickened and I collapsed on the ground.

I opened my eyes to find myself sprawled on the floor with my head throbbing and full of new memories. I looked out to my finger tips to see them just barely touching a small strip of land in the Middle East which glowed sapphire blue. I've visited family there before- it's Israel. I looked over at Miguel to see him laying across the map, his hand against a small country next to Spain that was lit up with a shining grass green.

England walked up and offered a hand to me. A memory of his betrayal bubbled up from the back of my mind. "Get away from me, you back-stabbing Anglo!" I seethed. He backed away swiftly, nearly stumbling over his own feet in his haste to get away. Germany and Russia both knew better than to approach me after my reaction to Britain. Japan and China were too polite to try and Italy was helping revive Miguel. I felt so alone in a room of so many people- all of them had either betrayed my people, persecuted them, or let them suffer without lifting a finger to help.

America walked toward me. "Israel, are you okay?" He asked carefully.

"Help me up," I said briskly. A sense of déjà vu washed over me as he pulled me up toward him. Take back what I said earlier- not all the countries in this room had turned their back on me. America had tried to earn my forgiveness over the years; he'd helped me out in the past. "Thanks," I said quickly, "How's Miguel?"

"Fine. See, Italy's helping him out."


	3. America's House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Israel spends the night at America's house and wakes up to get a surprise- she's going to have to pick her trainers, and America's not a choice.

"So, what next? Do I sleep here, or go back home?"

"You can't go back home, Israel," I love the way he says my new name. He pronounces it Iz-rie-el, making it sound exotic and mysterious. "But you can stay at my house in the guest rooms if you want. Miguel can stay at Italy's. You see, we're on a set of floating islands. Right now we're in the World Conference Center on the center island and each of the countries has an island of their own. They rotate according to who's in power. My island is closest the World Conference Center as I'm the world superpower right now. Your island will pop up sometime in the next few days. You can stay at someone else's for the night like France's or Russia's," He said, a knowing smile on his face. I rolled my eyes at him. He knew that no girl in her right mind would ever in a million years voluntarily spend the night on the same island as France or Russia, let alone the same house.

"Fine, you weirdo. But don't get any ideas." I shook my finger at him weakly, knowing that not only was I about to keel over in tiredness but also that America was not the kind of guy to try something like that.

 

I woke up the next morning to the bright sunlight and the sound of eggs sizzling and soft singing. It took me a moment to remember where I was and why my room had gotten so white. Then I remembered. America had directed me to my room, wished me good night, and left to go off to his room. I found a new pair of black pants and a white blouse laid out on the end of the bed, with black flats on the soft carpet beneath. I changed quickly, enjoying the soft cottony feel of the new clothing. I loosely wrapped a hair-tie around my dark brown ponytail and ran down the stairs, taking them two at a time. As I ran, I thought about how odd my situation is. On one hand, I was rapidly receiving the memories of a country that was both 4000 years old and not even yet 100 at the same time. On the other, I was a 16 year-old-girl who had just found out that the anime world of countries (no pun intended) she loved was real. I wasn't exactly sure how I felt about it.

I passed by an open door and looked in. America was sitting at his desk, boots propped up on the coffee table. I had to stifle a laugh when I first saw him- same old America- but then I scanned the rest of him. He gazed intently at the old leather-bound time in his hands, lost in another world. I found myself smiling softly. I liked that quality in a guy- smart with the ability to get lost in the world of a book.

He looked up. Dang, my presence must have alerted him! I needed to work on being quieter...His gaze softened when he noticed it was me.

I suddenly realized that I had a really annoying stray hair sticking out of my ponytail. I tried to tuck it behind my ear as smoothly as possible. "Just head downstairs. Italy's making breakfast for us and Miguel- sorry, he's Portugal now. You know, even with all the flack the other countries give him we all love his cooking. I'll be down in a few minutes."

I nod, not trusting myself to speak, and head downstairs. When I reach the kitchen, the smell of cooking eggs, pizza, and beef hamburger assaults me. I pause for just a moment before going in, appreciating Italy. He may not be able to read the atmosphere sometimes, but he'll remember small things- such as the fact that as a Jew, I don't eat pork. I head in to find Portugal shoveling food down his gullet. I smile. My best friend Miguel is still in there.

"Ciao, Israel! Come eat!" Italy welcomes me into the wonderful-smelling kitchen, "I'm here to get you ready for your first day when you select your trainers! America invited me over so you wouldn't get it from Germany, who he suspects you don't like too much, or Russia, who will try to convince you to join him. And of course who doesn't like la pizza!" I realized one of the reasons Portugal liked Italy so much- whenever they got excited, they both talked at the speed of light.

"Training?" I asked. This was new.

"Of course, Israel," A familiar voice came from behind me, "How else do you expect to become a strong country?"

I whirled around to see a smiling America. "I already am one, you idiot," I responded fiercely.

"I don't doubt that," He replied, "But I mean you as a person needs to get stronger in order to meet the needs of your country. You need to hone that special 'talent' of yours so you can use it even better. Also, other countries can help you improve culturally and militarily as well as accustom you to the insanity that comes with living in our world."

"So who is going to train me?" I asked.

"You'll hear a five minute speech from each of the original Axis and Allied powers in a private setting and then you will choose one member of the original Axis and one member of the original Allies. I can't be chosen as I'm the world superpower and I can't have any prior connections like that with any new countries." Is it wrong that I felt happy that he looked kind of disappointed saying that?

"Okay, eat up your breakfast so we can head to the Conference Center, Israel!" Italy shouted happily, "I can't wait for you to choose your trainers so you can meet my sister Sicily and my brother Romano!"

***

"I want Italy and England!" Portugal shouted excitedly.

"Ooh, yes, picked first again twice in a row!" Italy said happily.

"Vy vould you pick zhose two countries for your trainers?" Germany asked Miguel.

I expected something along the lines of 'Cause they're awesome' but I got a surprising answer instead. "England has a strong navy and air force, and is a good leader. Italy has a great culture and is the origin of my languages," He replied. It seemed to come out of nowhere, but I caught his eye and saw a smug look. I realized that he must have been practicing all night.


	4. Return of the Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prussia has escaped from the dungeons and is seeking revenge against his brother and Italy...

A mysterious figure stole into Italy and Romano's house. His boot thudded onto the kitchen floor. Romano turned around at the noise and the plate fell out of his hand in shock, shattering on the tile floor. "You can't be out yet!" He cried in true terror when he saw who it was. "It's impossible!"

"Nice to see you again, Romano," the figure said in a silky smooth voice, "I can't wait to spend time catching up with you." Then he swung the handle of the broom into Romano's head, and Romano's world went dark.

 

I waited in an adjoining room. Germany walked in first. I had to resist the urge to throw something at him. Thank goodness that, unlike Italy, he could read the atmosphere in the room quite well. He threw his hands up as if in defense before I could even speak. "Listen," he said, "I already know you're not over World War II and are not going to choose me as your trainer. Zhat's fine vith me. My only vish is that we get along on better terms than before. Do we have a deal, young Israel?" He stuck out his hand to shake.

I stared at him closely for a while. He looked a bit uncomfortable but still held my gaze. He seemed genuinely sorry. I stuck out my hand and shook his. "I'll forgive, but I won't forget. I never forget, so don't expect me to."

"That's all I can ask for, Israel. I'll try to earn your respect back, if you'll only keep an open mind."

"Deal," I responded.

Suddenly we heard a commotion out in the hallway. We glanced at each other, sharing a look, and then ran out through the heavy doors. In the hallway we found Italy and Croatia with an albino man in a cloak. He turned to look at Germany and I realized who it was. "Prussia?" I cried.

"Hello, my dear bruder," Prussia said, ignoring me completely.

"Hello, bruder, what are you doing here?" Germany asked carefully.

And I don't know exactly what happened, but I think that was the moment where Prussia jumped off the deep end. He cracked.

"You're a dumkoff!" Prussia exploded, "I can't believe you haven't seen through all my lies over zhe years. During all four World Wars, your damn sense of loyalty has kept you from seeing zhe truth. You used to be zhe Holy Roman Empire! You know zhose dreams of a little girl you used to have as a teenager, zhe ones I always dismissed as fantasy? Zhey vere real- zat girl vas Italy!" Out of the corner of his eye Germany could see Italy trying to hold in tears. No one could make Italy cry, no one! So what if everyone had thought Italy was a girl back then? Why would that matter? After all, Italy had always been a bit strange...then something Italy had told him long ago clicked. Prussia sneered. The look of shock in Germany's eyes as he turned to face Italy was priceless. Revenge was so sweet. Why hadn't he taken the chance sooner? "So now you know the truth, little bruder. And also, all this time you've had fake memories. Even though you looked younger as Holy Roman Empire, you were technically older than me."  
Prussia turned to Italy. "I hope you enjoy your time vith your new boyfriend, you veak cowardly cross-dressing Italian! I can't vait to see how he deals vith your secret love for him!" In that moment Italy shattered into a million pieces. He broke down into tears, sobbing into his hands as his long-hidden secret was finally revealed to his best friend.

And that's when Germany, after enduring all these years of his older brother's evil, snapped.

Germany whipped around to face Prussia. "How dare you make Italy cry!" He exploded. "How dare you expose secrets zhat vere never yours to tell! I HATE YOU, BRUDER! I WISH I HAD KILLED YOU DURING THE WAR! I WISH YOU WERE DEAD, YOU @&;!$€#£!"

Croatia had never seen this side of Germany before. He was always the calm and collected one, the loyal soldier who was learning to care for people. She too was shaken by Italy's tears, but she had been in too much shock at the appearance of Prussia and the secret he shared to do anything. Well, she had already known about Italy's long ago love the Holy Roman Empire (she had been a Hetalia fangirl in her previous life), but she also knew from the time she had spent with him that Italy's friendship with Germany was a brotherly one, not a romantic one. She also knew that Italy had only just begun to suspect who Germany had used to be.

Prussia laughed maniacally, leaning against the wall. "And to top it all off, you'll never see your brother again, Italy!" Then the wall twisted around, revealing a passageway behind it. "Goodbye, countries! Hope you have fun!" Then he quickly slipped into the passageway, the wall swinging shut behind him.

 

We entered the World Conference Hall, Germany's arm around Italy's shaking shoulder. Tears flooded down Italy's cheeks (he seemed to have an endless supply) as he sobbed.  
The other countries leapt from their seats. "What's wrong, dude?" America asked, concern showing through his voice.

I grabbed his wrist and led him over to the side of the hall. "They just found out that Germany used to be the Holy Roman Empire, and that means Germany and Italy used to be romantically involved."

America's mouth formed a small O. "That explains a lot," he said quietly.

"I know, but Italy's crushed. I think he'd finally got over the loss of Holy Rome and Prussia's news just crushed him all over again. And I don't think that Italy knew that Germany was Holy Rome. I think Italy saw their relationship as one of brotherly love, not romantic love. And to top it all off, Prussia has Romano."

"He has Romano? Oh gosh. That's bad, Israel. What can we do?"

I thought about it for a moment, and then replied, "Train. Portugal and I need to be in top shape to fight Prussia."

"So who are your trainers going to be, Israel?" He asked.

"Definitely Japan as my Axis trainer," I said, "I would have picked you as my Allied choice, but you're unavailable, so I guess I'll go with France. Everyone else has persecuted my citizens at one point or another, but at least he has given me a certain degree of respect and freedom over the years."

"Alright. Let's go tell the others of your choice." He took my hand and we headed over to tell the other countries of our plan.


	5. Blood and Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prussia is hiding a secret beneath Germany's house that might shake the balance of the world...

Prussia walked down the stairs and into Germany's basement. He strolled quickly down a long corridor, heading to a small room at the end of the corridor. Ah, how it felt to be free again! He smiled to himself as he walked. Germany was so gullible! That dream with a girl in it had just been a fantasy, but since he had sown his story with seeds of truth- the truth about Holy Rome and Italy's romance- he had been believed. And it was much better for them to think that Germany was the Holy Roman Empire than to know the truth of what he had been hiding down here for nearly two centuries.

He inserted an old, delicately carved key into the lock on the door. He turned it, hearing the tumblers click into place, then opened the door and slipped in.

"Is zhat you, Germany, at last?" A young voice croaked, his tone rasping and dry.

"No, older bruder, it is I, Prussia, come with sustenance for you," Prussia slipped the tray of food out of his pack and through the bars of the cage at the back of the room.

A pale young face framed by disheveled blond hair appeared from the shadows. A cut ran across his forehead over a pair of wide blue eyes filled with fear and anger sparkling in the light of the lamp Prussia carried. A dirty black cloak lay on the ground beneath the boy. He wore tattered and patched black robes. A black hat laid cast away in the corner. The boy took the food silently and went back to sit on his cloak.  
"You know zhey shall defeat you, younger bruder, they always do," The boy said between bites of wurst."

"Not zhis time, Holy Rome, not zhis time. And even if they did you'd still be stuck down here. Germany would never come looking. You see, I've convinced him that the reason his childhood memories are so mixed up is because he's actually you. Your friend Italy now thinks so too."

"Italy?" Holy Rome cried, dropping his food on the floor and running over to the side of the cage Prussia was standing next to, "How is she? Is she alright? If you've done anything to her I svear I will hunt you down to the ends of the earth and end your miserable existence with my own two hands." His eyes blazed and his hands on the bars of the cage shook w/ anger.

Prussia outright laughed at the image of this tiny, defeated country destroying him. "Oh, Italy's changed a lot, but it's not my fault. Italy's best friends are Germany and Japan now, but she still misses you." For some reason Prussia decided not to tell Holy Rome that Italy was really a boy. Maybe he was trying to spare his brother's feelings, but more likely it was because he thought it would hurt just as much if Holy Rome found out on his own, and he wanted to get as much revenge for having to live in the shadows of his brothers for so long. Now that he thought about it, capturing Italy would hurt them both. He would personally make sure that this time the Army of Empires captured Italy in addition to the minor countries. He couldn't wait to see the look on his brothers' faces when their friend was gone.  
He decided to pull his hood up before heading back. The hood would cover up the scar on his face, silvery white hair, and his tell-tale red eyes. He turned his back on his brother. "They'll never find you, Holy Rome, this I swear. You shall die in this room, knowing that I will kidnap and kill your Italy. Good bye, brother," Prussia declared, "You shall never see Italy again."

"NO!" Holy Rome cried, shaking the bars of the cage as Prussia left, laughing maniacally.

 

I flip over backward to avoid France's slash and land on my feet, knees bent. I've always been fit but during my time training I've become a physical masterpiece. I'm not bragging. I'm lean, with very little fat and a light layer of muscles. I'm strong, fast, and agile, and my 'battle trance' ability enhances with every fight. I heal quickly. Even though I've been dueling my trainers for the past six hours I've barely broken a sweat and am breathing normally. The bottoms of my bare feet are rough and calloused. My back muscles draw taut under a black tank top and my arm muscles flex as I grab the heavy katana I've been practicing with for the past few days.

A loose strand of hair flies into my face. I tuck it behind my ear before somersaulting to the right and whacking France with the dull side of my katana. The red sheen fades from my vision. I have defeated the 'enemy'- the battle is over. I walk over and help France to his feet, a grim smile on my face. "You're getting better," France says, smiling at me. I've gotten to know him better as I've trained with him, and he's not the pervert everyone makes him out to be. He's a strong country with a kind heart who just loves everyone he meets, and I can't fault him for it. However, I made it clear that I'm not interested, and he seems okay with that.

"But not good enough to defeat Prussia," I reply somberly.

"You're still doing well, Israel," Japan praises as he walks up to us. He nods at me. "Nice side hit, but that won't work as well with other countries. Only France and Italy's blind spots are on their lefts." That's what I like about my other trainer- he's short and to the point. He'll tell me what's wrong as well as whatever I've done right. He tosses me my brown jacket. "You're done for the day." The three of us steeple our hands and bow.

"You're free to go," France said with a knowing look. He knew that the hour between training and dinner I normally spent alternating between learning about the previous conflicts with Prussia, taught by America, and spending time with Portugal and Italy, occasionally with Germany and Croatia.

Suddenly we heard a crash and a scream. That had come from where Portugal, Italy, and England had been training! The three of us shared a worried look, then sped off after the noise.


	6. Shadows of the Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crash during training was just a false alarm, but Israel begins to experience visions that night, visions of a dark and deadly future.

_"How to be brave?_

_How can I love when I'm afraid to fall?"_

 

Our fears turned out unfounded. All we ended up finding there was Portugal and Italy in a tangled heap on the ground, a red-faced England trying to pull them apart. We all knew he was trying not to scream in anger (there was practically steam coming out of his ears) as Italy had been in a pretty delicate state lately. After having his best friend in the world find out that they had used to be in love (and he had dressed as a girl) and his brother kidnapped by the most evil man in the world, we were amazed that Italy had even managed to hold it together enough to help Britain train Portugal.

"Here," I said, walking forward to help the bloody git out. I grabbed Portugal's hand and pulled him up, my newly-developed strength making it a whole lot easier, "I'll help you boys out."

No one asked what had happened; we just were relieved that it hasn't been Prussia. We'd all been wound on tight strings since Prussia had made his grand reappearance.  
Italy looked like he was about to cry, and even Russia didn't want to see that happen again. I think seeing Italy cry rattled us even more than Prussia escaping from the dungeons.

"Italy, are you going to be making dinner tonight? We all hope it is your pasta," Russia said. I looked at him in a new light. Maybe he wasn't childishly cruel all the way through.  
Italy sniffled and then gave us a wavering smile. "Of course we will be having pasta! What is the world without pasta?" I could tell that he was still upset- he was talking slightly slower and at a slightly lower decibel level than usual.

"Then dinner's at Germany's place. We're all coming right, dudes?" America said, talking to the others. Everyone nodded. It would only be a change for France, Russia, England, and China. The former Axis powers tended to eat meals together at Austria and Hungary's house, along with Sicily and Croatia, while Portugal, America, and I ate dinner over there half of the time. The other half we alternated between the rest of the countries' houses and America's place, where Mexico had stopped by a few times to teach us how to cook proper enchiladas and tacos.

"The duels are tomorrow," England added, "Don't you think Italian will be a great last meal?" The previous day we had chosen who we would be trying our strength against in order to prove that we have what it takes to be a country. Even with the threat of Prussia hanging over our heads we still had to adhere to the codes of becoming an official country. I was going to have to fight China, and Portugal would have to fight Russia.

I had full confidence in my friend, but I was still worried about his chances with the former superpower and housemate of the Soviet Union. I could tell he was concerned for me too, as I was going to have to fight the oldest country of the Allied and Axis powers. Well, except for me. I smiled at the thought. Even though my birthday was technically in 1949, I was thousands of years older than that. In fact, I was one of the oldest countries in the world.

I smirked at Britain. I wasn't going to insult him or argue with him or remind him of his betrayal, which cut as painfully as if it had happened yesterday- we were all too shaken for that. Instead I opted for teasing. "Anything would be better than British cooking, right?"

America grinned. "Yeah. On that any of us could agree."

"Hey!" Britain cried as the rest of us laughed. Even Italy smiled widely. Britain's cooking had been mocked- order had been restored to the universe.

 

I opened my wardrobe. All my clothes for the past few weeks had come from either my dresser or my wardrobe- everyday I found them freshly stocked with clothes that fit me perfectly. I flipped through the clothing hanging up in my wardrobe. Normally I didn't care about clothing (still not my main priority in life), but I at least wanted to look decent tonight. I pulled out a navy blue blouse, white slacks, and a pair of black flats. I wouldn't have to wear a dress until the celebration ball after we fought the older countries and won- and even then it would be a one time thing.

I changed out of my training clothes (black tank top and yoga pants) and into dinner clothes. I slipped my hair out of its braid and brushed it, then let it fall so it hung it in soft, full waves around my face. Then I grabbed a necklace from my jewelry box, the simplest one I could find, a small sapphire Star of David on a thin silver chain. I checked my appearance in the mirror. My face looked softer and fuller with my hair down, my features not so sharp and guarded. I wasn't beautiful by any stretch of the imagination- I was too plain for that- but I was somewhat noticeable.

A knock sounded on the door, "Come in," I called absently, distracted by something reflected in my own warm cocoa brown gaze. There was something reflected in my eyes that I couldn't quite make out- a shadowy and dark spot in my irises. Suddenly it exploded, expanding across the reflection of my eyes, and I stumbled back in shock.  
America caught me. "Are you okay, Israel?" He asked, concern showing through in his voice.

I glanced over at my reflection. My eyes had returned to normal, black pupils contained by ordinary brown rings surrounded by whites. "Yeah, I'm fine," I said shakily. Then I turned around to face him, needing the warmth of his clear blue eyes to steady me.

He looks at me worriedly. "As long as you're okay..." He says, offering me a chance to tell him.

I nod. "Everything's fine," I say, my normal confidence flooding back into my voice. I even smirk to make it look like I'm completely back to normal. After all, it was probably just a hallucination or something like it. I probably just imagined it, even though there was still a tiny bit of me that was still shaken.

He takes my hand. "Then let's go. Italy has dinner waiting." We stroll out of my room together, and I take the moment to fully take in how fine America looks in his tailored black suit. Now that I'm not so startled, I can take the time as we walked down the corridor to head over to Italy's to truly appreciate it.


	7. Soaring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After mocking Britain, a bittersweet memory of Israel's surfaces during dinner at Italy's. Then, while dancing with America, feelings surface and she realizes that she's not the only one with a fluttering heart...

" _Time stands still_

_Beauty in all she is"  
_

 

The night started out perfect, or at least as close to perfect as any night of mine had ever been allowed to get. I was going to a dinner cooked by Italy, hosted by the Axis Powers, with music played by Austria and his piano, my best friend Portugal there, and with America. The small part of me that still remembered what it was like to be a ordinary human fangirl squealed with excitement, and for once I was content to be happy. No worries, no Prussia, just me and the other countries having one last peaceful, enjoyable dinner together before our training ended and we preemptively struck Prussia. For now, all was calm and happy. Even Italy, who had gone through so much in the past month, was smiling when he greeted us at the door. He was dressed in a brown suit and a green-red-and-white-striped tie.

"Hey, Israel! Hey, America! How are you two? You guys doing great? We are! Did you know that...?" He kept babbling on as he led us to his dining room, and I smiled. It nice to see him so happy for once.

"Here are your spots," he said, pointing at two seats about half way down the table. I looked at the place cards at the seats on either side of us and across the table. From left to right it was Japan, then me, then America, then France. Across from me was Portugal and next to him (across from America) was England. I was in too good of a mood tonight to protest at being so close to the back-stabbing traitor.

America's hand slipped out of mine, and something in my chest knotted into a small ball. I frowned, wondering why. Then America pulled my chair out from the table. He gestured at it, inviting me to sit down. "Miss Israel?" he asked in a fake British accent, a smirk on his face, "Would you care to take a seat?"

I decided to play along. "Why of course, guv'na," I said, laying on a thick Cockney accent as I sat down.

Portugal, just arriving at the table, laughed and joined in,. He turned to Spain, his older brother, and said, "Why hello, old chap, would you care for a spot of tea?" The fake British accent spread through the rest of the countries until we were all giggling and laughing. Even Austria, the man who's probably cracked a smile twice in his life, chuckled at the silliness of the rest of us as he led a giggling Hungary to her seat.

Then Britain walked in and a wave of laughter flooded the room. France swaggered up to him. "'Ello, chum," He said in a VERY exaggerated British accent, causing peals of laughter to ripple through the gathering, "Care to join us for fish and chips? Maybe some burnt scones?" Britain's cheeks turned burnt red as laughter erupted far and wide.

America walked up, a slight smile on his face. He clapped a hand on Britain's shoulder. "Ah, we're just messin' with you, bro," He said in his normal voice. The other countries stopped watching now that the fun was over and went back to talking amongst themselves. Britain headed to his seat next to Portugal as America and France returned to theirs.  
Then dinner started. You'd expect dinner with a bunch of centuries-old countries to be a bit old-fashioned and formal, but it was as if we'd sat down at a family reunion. People up and down the table chattered loudly, bumped elbows while reaching for things, and shouted, "Pass the (fill in blank with food item)!" in every language I could think of.  
"Here," America said, passing me a bowl of food, "I think you'll like these." A heavenly smell wafted up from the bowl as I peeled back the towel overtop. I'd recognize that scent anywhere-Latkes. My family had had the delicious potato pancakes every year at Hanukah back when I'd been human.

And that's what pushed me over the edge. Not America telling me a few nights back that my family and friends had forgotten I'd ever existed, or Romano being kidnapped, or Portugal almost dying when the World Map had nearly rejected his life force- it was the smell of my former favorite food in the entire world that broke me. I tasted bile in my throat and I jumped up from the table, pushing back my chair as the walls holding the tears behind my eyes burst. I ran out of the dining room, down a hallway, and into a ballroom. Then I collapsed onto one of the chairs and wept. My entire human life had been erased except for the memories in the minds of Portugal and I. Everything that had made me who I am was gone, replaced by lifetimes of memories that felt real but that I'd never truly lived.

 

I heard the door creak open, and the somehow soft-yet-loud sound of boots on hardwood flooring echoed across the room as my tears began to abate. "Israel?" America's voice called out tentatively.

"Go away," I protested weakly, not lifting my gaze from the floor. My breathing was ragged, each word hitching on the lump in my throat before it came out.  
Instead I felt a comforting hand on my shoulder, gently massaging my upper back with skilled and caring fingers. My tense muscles relaxed just the tiniest bit under America's warm touch.

"Do you need anything, Israel?" America asked. I nearly smiled. Anyone else would have tried to pry what was wrong out of me, or at least have tried to assure me that everything would be fine, which was an obvious lie, but he didn't. He didn't lie, he just tried to help me recover without any falseness or insincerity, and that made me respect him just a little but more.

"Here, Israel," He said, "I have an idea to make you feel better." I heard his footsteps walk away, and then a few moments later I heard old-timey music begin to play. I looked up in surprise to find him walking back from an old record player where a real vinyl record had begun to play. He offered his hand. "May I have this dance, Miss Israel?" He asked, bowing.

I laughed, wiping away my tears. "Of course you may." I took the offered hand, putting my other hand on his shoulder. He put his on my waist, a sturdy yet gentle presence. Then we began to dance around the room.

He was surprisingly talented and light on his feet, guiding me through steps I hadn't realized I'd known until I danced them. It was wonderful. Then he spun me around and dipped me, and as he brought me back up I found my face incredibly close to his. Then, suddenly, without warning, he leaned in and our lips met. Energy rushed through me, dissolving the frozen lump of hatred, anger, regret, and sorrow that had rested in my chest for so long. I was floating, soaring away from all of my troubles. For a few blissful, amazing moments I finally felt free.

Then he leaned back, breaking the connection, and I crashed back to Earth. "I'm so sorry, Israel," he said, "I don't know what came over me."

"Well, I breathed, "I do." Then I grabbed the collar of his jacket and pulled him in, kissing him with a passion I hadn't realized I contained within me. He wrapped his arms around my waist, and that's how Portugal found us a few moments later, entwined in each others arms, lips fitted together, bodies molded to each other like puzzle pieces.  
I was completely, utterly, and madly in love.


	8. Molded Out of Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Italy gets back from the ballroom and experiences a horrific flashback, prompting her to realize how important her friendship with Portugal is to her.

" _I have died every day waiting for you"_

 

Portugal cleared his throat. America and I broke apart, brushing ourselves off. I looked over and found that his cheeks, like mine, were burning red. That lump in my chest returned, but smaller this time, less prominent.

Portugal raised an eyebrow and I realized that I was probably grinning like an idiot. Sure, it was embarrassing to be caught in the act, but the feeling of finally being in love overwhelmed nearly all other emotions.

"We've been wondering where you guys had gone," Portugal said in a strangely thick tone, "We're about to have dessert. France dared Spain to eat one of the scones Britain brought and I thought you guys would want to see France die of food poisoning."

America reached for my hand as we walked back to the dining room, lacing his fingers with mine. He squeezed lightly, a reassuring touch, and then let go. If I'd known that that was the last of such touches I'd get for a very long time (in fact, until he was near death and I sacrificed myself to save his life), I would have held on forever and never let go. But I didn't know, and I let him go off to talk to Croatia's younger brother Bosnia, Finland, and Sweden while I stood with Portugal. Since we'd been gone the dinner party had gotten up, spreading throughout the room to chat with each other. My stomach growled. Though I could tell Portugal desperately wanted to talk to me about what had happened between me and America, he chuckled at the sound and, linking his arm through mine, pulled me over to the desserts table. I smirked. It was just like old times, with Portugal's unstoppable mouth (whether eating or talking) always leading us like a homing beacon to the best foods. True to his record, he led us to the section of the long, long, table layered with chocolate desserts.

Britain offered me a plate and I, my mind swirling with thoughts and confusing new emotions, couldn't hate him enough to decline. I took the plate, had enough presence of mind to nod my thanks, and picked out a few treats, all the while thinking madly. I'd never been the type of girl to ogle over boys or swoon when a guy asked me out. Not that many guys had, in my life as a country or a human, because I'd always put off an air of you-better-have-a-good-reason-to-approach-me. Well, to everyone except Portugal, as he had been my best friend in my human life for as long as I could remember. Except for maybe Holland, who had helped me out when I'd escaped one of Prussia's chambers back during World War Two. A shadow fell over my soul, quenching my happiness as I remembered being at Prussia's mercy with no one to protect me.

 

_I was thrown on the floor of the train, gasping in pain. My lip bled and a bruise colored my cheek. Cuts, bruises, and burns decorated the rest of my body. Pain wracked my entire body. My head throbbed from where I had been kicked by one of Prussia's henchman. I lived in a world shaped and molded from pain and agony._

_"What do you want, Prussia?" I spat out._

_"You are a disgusting filthy Jew. You are a sorry excuse for a country and are zhe scourge of zhe human race," Prussia replied, a look of contempt on his face and maniacal hatred in his eyes._

_I still managed to work up the spirit to rebel. "You didn't answer my question. What. Do. You. Want?"_

_I stuck the tip of his boot under my chin and forced my head upwards so I was looking straight into his eyes. "I want you to die, Israel. I want to purge your people’s very existence from the earth."_

_Then he kicked me in the face. As blood gushed out of my nose and I doubled over in pain he turned away, facing one of his men. "Take her to the gas chambers," he ordered, then turned on his heel and left without a second glance back._

 

I snapped back into the present. My stomach curdled; I didn't want to eat anymore. I set my plate down on the table and pushed it away. "Are you okay?" Portugal asked, concerned, and he had right to be. I'd never willingly pushed away chocolate before.

"Yeah," I replied, a sour taste in my mouth.

"Good. You know you can tell me anything, right, Israel?" Portugal asked, looking me directly in the eye.

"Of course, Portugal," I say, "You're my best friend. I'd trust you with my life."

"Okay, then." Then he smirked. A mischievous light glinted in his eyes. "So..." He said, "You and America?"

My cheeks burned, "Yeah." Then I tried to recover. I smirked back at him, trying to hide any emotions that may have been roiling through me. "You have anyone of your own yet? Any of these countries that you like?"

He suddenly found some kind of dessert to stuff in his mouth. He turned away, trying to hide his face from me, but not before I caught a glimpse of his beet-red cheeks. "Maybe," he muttered under his breath.

"Who is it?" I asked, giving him a friendly nudge on the shoulder. For just this single moment everything else fell away- there was no threat of Prussia, no horrible flashbacks, no worries . There were only the two of us in the world, teasing each other and laughing like old times.

And it felt wonderful.


	9. Night Demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night of the duels, Israel has a nightmare. She seeks America's comfort, and he sees a side of her that no one else will...

_"But watching you stand alone,_

_All of my doubt suddenly goes away somehow."_

 

That night, I had a horrible dream.

 

I was standing in the arena, a katana in my hand, ready for my duel with China. Suddenly the lights dimmed, and China appeared. He looked different- a dark presence accompanied him, throwing odd shadows over his face. He sneered, baring his teeth, and madness flickered in his eyes. "China?" I asked, a little creeped out, "Are you okay?"

"You're going to die, Israel!" He cried out, an insane sound, and charged toward me, a scimitar in his hands. Then he suddenly transformed into Prussia, an insane hatred gleaming in his eyes and flooding into his features. He slashed at me, and I blocked it. He slowly began to hammer at me, then quickly accelerated, raining down blows.

"Get out of my head, you infernal demon!" I shouted.

He smiled, an evil sight, and I grew uneasy. "Whatever you want, Israel," He instantly stopped hacking at me with his blade, and before my horrified eyes changed into America.  
An evil sneer transformed his features, making him look feral and dark. He laughed, an evil cackle that sounded like nothing that I'd ever heard exit his throat. "Hello, Israel," He said, a smooth darkness in his voice that made him sound like Prussia, "Care to play?" He hefted his sword.

"No, this isn't you, America," I protested, not able to reconcile the sight of this nightmare and the man I'd kissed that evening. His blade came down, darkness falling with it, and I was falling, falling so far I'd never reach the surface again...

 

I abruptly woke up, breathing heavily. My hair was tangled, the sheets ripped off the bed with my struggling, and sweat covered my entire body. I got up and blearily headed to America's study, searching for comfort after the horror I'd just experienced. I found the door propped open, the soft light of the desk lamp filtering out into the hallway.

I pushed the door open and found America sitting in his chair with his feet propped up on his desk, an episode of Doctor Who playing on his computer screen. I dazedly recognized it as Midnight, one of the most haunting episodes of the Tenth Doctor's era. "America?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. He turned around and I saw that his shirt was untucked, his tie loosened. Normally I would have paid great attention to those facts, but all that mattered at the moment was the warm, concerned look in his eyes.

"Nightmare?" He asked in an understanding tone. I nodded. He stood up and walked over. Seeing him close, I registered the difference in our ages. I may have looked ten years younger, and founding date wise I was younger than he was, but I in reality I was thousands of years older. In that moment, however, what became blatantly clear was that he had had nearly two and a half centuries to adjust to this life, while I had had only a month. He put his hands on my shoulders and looked into my eyes. "Are you okay? Did someone do something? You can tell me anything." He asked like a concerned older brother.

And to this day I'm still not sure exactly why that snapped me out of my daze, made me explode the way I did. But it did happen, so something pushed me over the edge. I snapped. "I'm not okay, America!" I spat, "Because you are the only one with a shred of decency left! Even Italy is guilty of crimes against my people. At least you tried to heal the wounds of the past, to seek my forgiveness. Not one of them has given more than an ounce of effort into helping my people. I did it all myself! They persecuted me, hunted me down, and killed millions upon millions of my people- they abandoned me to fight off the Arabs by myself, and I did it against impossible odds! I have fought, and gone through incalculable pain, and held on, and survived, and turned into something I never wanted to be- a calloused warrior child who guards herself against love and kindness so she can never be betrayed or hurt so deeply again." Tears flooded down my cheeks, such was the emotion that was gushing out after so long.

The outburst seemed to take something out of me, for just a moment- the callousness, the guardedness- my shoulders slouched down, the energy went out of me, and my face slumped. It felt for just a moment like I'd given up, that I could go no farther. I'd grown a bit taller in the time I'd been a country, but that didn't prevent America from delicately sweeping me into his arms, my head against his shoulder, and run his hand through my hair, trying to soothe me. I felt so small- so defeated- like he'd never seen me before. My façade had cracked, and my true emotions were showing through.

"He took Romano, hurt Italy, and killed my people," I sobbed quietly into his shoulder, "And I couldn't do anything to save them. I'm useless, America, completely useless, and it's all my fault that he's done all of this."

"It's okay," he murmured into my hair, "None of us could do anything to save them. It's not your fault."

 

And for once I let him coddle me, comfort me, soothe me. I didn't protest- we'd be back to normal in the morning. I'd had an unusual night, and so I let him see the truth.


	10. Old Friends and New Surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Israel gets three visitors- a cousin, a brother, and a surprise.

That morning I had more new visitors than any other day previously (except the first day, of course). One was an old acquaintance, the second from someone I'd been secretly hoping would show up, and the last a total surprise.

The first came as I was tying my boots as I finished getting ready for the long duel against China that lay ahead. A knock sounded at the door. "Hello, Israel? It's me, Egypt," a deep, slightly British accented voice said, "Can I come in?"

"Sure," I said after a moment's hesitation, "Just a moment!" I walked over to the door and opened it, not sure what would happen. On the other side of the door I found Egypt, a dark-skinned beauty with kohl lining her warm amber eyes. Wrapped in lightweight linen clothes, a gold scarab pendant glittering from a chain at her neck. On Dueling Days, all countries except the four participating wore traditional clothing. That evening at the ball, all of us would wear formal clothing reflecting our flags.

"I just came by to wish you luck, Israel," she said.

"Thanks," I replied, a little surprised. Though a bit of my anger over the War of Independence still remained, we'd become better friends in the last few years. Her good wishes warned my heart just a little bit, "Should I tell Portugal that you wished us good luck?"

"No, thank you," she said, "I'm planning to stop by his house later."

"Well, okay then. Thanks again!" I said awkwardly, going to shut the door.

"Wait, cousin!" She called out suddenly, stopping the door with her foot, 'I just want to know one thing. Are the rumors true?"

"What rumors?" I asked, confused.

"You're so modest, Israel, just like always," She said, grinning. For a moment I saw her as the twenty-five-year-old she looked like, not the ancient country I knew she was. "The rumors about you and America, of course!"

I nearly choked in shock, and tried to cover it up as a cough. "What?" I asked, my voice strangled.

"You know what, Israel," she said, raising an eyebrow in significance.

I sighed. "Yeah. Well, maybe." I admitted.

"Congratulations, Israel! I'm so happy for you!" She cried, clapping happily like I used to do as a human whenever one of my friends got together with the boy she liked. Then she sobered, growing serious. "Oh, you deserve happiness after what all of us have done to you. I'm sorry about everything that has happened. All of us are- my brothers and sisters just haven't worked up the courage to admit it yet."

I nodded, not willing to argue. I'd rather stay friends with Egypt than protest and fight again. "Have a good day, Egypt. I'll see you after the duel later. Maybe we could hang out sometime after this whole war with Prussia's over." I realized, startled, that it's the first time I've referred to it as a war. And I guess the description's right- what's been going on has been a war. A World War at that, as much as I hated to admit it.

This revelation didn't hit Egypt, and I was glad she didn't have such dark thoughts running through her head. Instead, she smiled. "I'll see you later, cousin," She said, and left.  
I stood there with my thoughts for a few moments, pondering what a dark situation we were in, then headed downstairs to join America for one last breakfast before the duel.

 

We sat down together, a small breakfast on the table- just some eggs, toast, and beef sausage patties. Suddenly another knock sounded at the door, this time the front door. America sighed in fake annoyance and got up, but his smile showed that he wasn't seriously bothered.

He reached the door and opened it to reveal the familiar coffee brown face of Palestine, my twin brother. I jumped up, shocked. I hadn't seen him in a very long time, and though historically we'd had a rocky relationship, I hadn't realized until that moment how much I'd missed him. There are very few people I truly care about (Portugal and America are numbered among these select), and though most people don't think so, Palestine is one of them. I ran forward and tackled him in a hug. "Oh," I whispered, "I've missed you so much, brother." I'm not sure who was the most surprised- America, Palestine, or me. I lean back, my hands reluctantly leaving his shoulders. "I mean hey, Palestine. Would you like to have breakfast with us?" As soon as I finished I realize that I hadn't even asked America if it was alright, and it was his house. However, I was sure he's understand. I hadn't seen my brother in ages.

"Of course, sister, if it's alright with America. We have much to talk about." A bit of the mirthful glint that I hadn't seen since ancient times had reentered his brown eyes, filling them with a youthful light. We turned to America, who had been watching the entire time with an amused look on his face.

He nodded, smiling at what I supposed was a touching reunion. "Yeah, sure, guys," He answered. "I'm sure we have enough food for three." He only seems the tiniest bit hurt that we couldn't have breakfast together alone, and I am too, but the excitement of finally seeing Palestine is overshadowing everything else.

We sat down at the table, Palestine flipping his robes out behind him like men used to do with the tails on their evening jackets. I smiled. Any experience with Palestine that didn't involve arguing and screaming made me happy. I remembered one memorable fight that ended up with Britain's vase getting accidentally knocked over onto the floor. Okay, I admit it might not have been such an accident, but after tempers cooled and we banded back together, that's what we told Britain.

"So, Palestine, why did you come back?" I asked as I spooned some eggs onto my plate.

"To wish you good luck, see if you needed any help, and of course just to see you after so long apart," He responded. Then he turned to America. "Could you please pass the milk?"

"Sure," America said, and complied.

And the rest of the breakfast went like that- Palestine and I sharing stories, all three of us laughing at jokes, and America just being generally polite but not talking much, just letting the two of us catch up. I was really grateful. He didn't have to be so nice. He could have just told us to go somewhere else, or just have dominated the conversation, but instead he sensed that I needed this time to connect with the brother I'd been at odds with for so long.

Eventually the food all disappeared and the conversation wound down to a close. Palestine pushed back from the table. "Thank you so much for the meal," he said politely, addressing America. Then he turned to me. "And thank you so much for the stories you've shared with me. I've missed you so much, Israel." This time it was him who hugged me, moving forward and wrapping his arms around me in a tight embrace. After a moment of surprise, I returned it wholeheartedly, nearly as happy as when America and I kissed last night (but not quite).

Then we let go and he left. I turned around to see America smiling, but with a look of regret in his eyes. I knew, without having to ask, that he was thinking about Britain and their broken relationship. I moved forward and took his hand, looking up at him with a glowing smile on my face. He leaned in and kissed me on the cheek, the barest touch, a light, feathery thing that sent sparks through me.

 

Then, later, when I was in the armory picking out a weapon for the duel, the door opened, and I turned around to find Hungary pushing Austria into the room.

"Hey, Israel," Hungary said, "Austria has something to tell you.

The look on Austria's face was a mixture of embarrassment, regret, and nervousness. I raised an eyebrow. "So, Austria? What do you want to tell me?" He mumbled something under his breath. "What was that?" I asked.

Then, a little louder, "You're my older sister, Israel. I'm actually Jewish."

I stumbled back in shock, bumping into the table of knives. "WHAT?" I cry, shocked at first. Then I got angry. "Why didn't you tell me earlier? Like during World War Two? Why did you let me suffer like that? If this is how family treats each other, I'm not sure I want a brother." Then I marched forward and slapped him on the cheek. "YOU FILTHY COWARD!"  
An angry red mark started to form on his cheek.

Then after a moment of standing there in shock, Hungary did the completely unexpected- she giggled and then tried to hide her smile behind her hand, which only made it more obvious. She couldn't contain herself. The tension melted. She pointed at Austria, laughing. "She told you, Mister Austria!"

I couldn't help but smile, Hungary's mirth was so contagious. And she was right, the look of absolute surprise on Austria's face was downright hilarious. My anger began to dissipate. I knew that Austria was just trying to protect his people, and maybe I would have done the same in his place. Slapping him had certainly helped. Also, with the threat of Prussia hanging over our heads, we couldn't afford to have this new grudge hanging over our heads.

I stuck out a hand. "Truce?"

He shook off his shock and managed to stick out his hand. "Truce."


	11. Prisoners (Mini-Chapter)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It turns out that not everyone is as they seem. America was kidnapped by Prussia and was replaced by an evil copy, and now Israel is in extreme danger...

I know you want to know what happened at the duel- how Prussia showed up during my duel, kidnapped Italy, and threatened America's life if we didn't give him what he wanted. I'm sorry, but we're going to have to take a detour first. Another story demands telling for you to completely understand what happened next.

 

The door opened, shedding light on Romano's hunched over form. Metal cuffs encircled his wrists, connected to heavy chains that led to a link in the wall. He looked up blearily as a dark silhouette fell over him and Prussia led a blindfolded prisoner into the cell. He snapped the cuffs into a set of chains farther down the wall, then yanked off the blindfold in one savage motion and quickly left the room. He slammed the door behind him and Romano heard the lock click into place. He looked over at the new prisoner, nearly jaded beyond caring.

Instead of the people he'd expected Prussia to hit first, like Germany or Japan or Britain or even his useless younger brother, he found a blond headed guy in a torn evening suit. He crawled over to the body and discovered it was America, missing his glasses. America had a bullet wound in his leg and a gash in his forehead that were quickly healing up as he watched. "America?" He asked, his voice hoarse after weeks of no use, "What are you doing here? If you're a superpower, how did that bastard capture you?"

America turned over, blinking as his bewildered eyes tried to adjust to the darkness as well as they possibly could. "Where am I?" he muttered, apparently not having heard what Romano just said.

Romano helped America sit up, bracing his back. America winced in pain, holding his head. "You're in Prussia's dungeons, America. What is the last thing you remember?"  
Even in the dim light from the window high up in the wall Romano could see America blush. "I'd gone off to the restroom after Israel and I had, um... danced." This last word came out significantly quieter than the others, "When I heard a noise behind me and turned around. I caught a glimpse of Prussia before a searing pain cut into my leg and then darkness devoured my vision. That's the last thing I remember before waking up here. Oh, damn! Israel's going to be all by herself against Prussia. We have to save her!" He jumped up, then fell back down gasping for breath and clutching at his stomach. He looked down in shock at his hand, now covered in a dark sticky substance, and fainted with blood loss.

Romano, displaying an uncharacteristic gentleness, carefully laid America's body on the ground. He knew that America would heal quicker if undisturbed. Then he retreated back to his corner and waited for America to wake up again, dwelling upon dark and dismal thoughts.


	12. This is War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Israel duels China, who is attacked by America. She finds out that the real America has not been with her since right after they kissed the night before, and as the other countries are rushing down to the floor of the arena, meets the first of Prussia's allies- the British Empire, Britain's older sister.

_"I will be brave_

_I will not let anything take away_

_What's standing in front of me_ ."

 

An hour after the confrontation with my newfound brother, I found myself in the middle of a heated duel with China, his scimitar against my katana. Thanks to my training with France and Japan, as well as my 'battle trance' ability, I was matching him blow for blow, my senses heightened. I felt a single bead of sweat trickle down my back, and the slight breeze blowing through the arena felt wonderful as I spun around, dodging China's stroke. I smiled softly, enjoying the feeling of fluid muscles, fighting a much older and experienced enemy than myself. I knew that if I could defeat China at least once, prove myself worthy of being a country, then I could destroy the infernal beast that was Prussia.

My ankle throbbed, the pain focusing me rather than distracting as it used to. Early in the duel China had gotten past my defenses, and though I managed to parry his blade at the last moment, he had managed to cut my ankle. As I dance past him, a drop of blood trickles down the side of my bare foot and splashes to the ground, discoloring a patch of white sand.

I turned quickly to parry the blade I sensed coming on my right and stopped in my tracks, frozen in shock as I watched China slowly fall to the ground, a surprised look on his face and clutching at the silver blade now protruding from his stomach. America appeared behind him, grinning wickedly with his hands out in front of him in a way that left no doubt in my mind that it was him that had done this nefarious deed. A thousand thoughts raced through my head. The first thing I thought is that he was that he was trying to cheat for me, but I swiftly dismiss such a notion. America is honest, unlike most of the other the countries. So that meant that he had attacked China for some other reason, and he had no reason for revenge as far as I knew, so why would he do such a thing?

Then I gasped as I realized the truth. "It took you forever to figure it out, Israel," America said, but it wasn't him anymore, not my America; the way he said my name was flat, normal, the twist in his voice too cruel, hard.

"It's not you in there, is it?" I asked as I walked slowly and purposefully toward him, not showing the pain I felt inside. At the edges of my vision I could see the countries making their way down, but they wouldn't get here in time to prevent what he, whatever he was now, was planning would happen.

"What has he done to you?" I hissed, my voice low, and though I tried to hide it, my pain was leaking out. Then, stepping over China's limp form (I could hear him moaning and could barely contain the urge to jump down next to him and make sure he was okay), I noticed something that shocked me most of all- it wasn't America, now that I was really paying attention, it hadn't really been since last night. This version of the man I love, who I was now realizing was the one I kissed this morning, had eyes a shade darker and hair a shade lighter than the America I've lived in the same house as for the past month. I shuddered with disgust, wiping off my mouth with the hand not containing the katana.

Then I exploded, this time with plenty of reason. "You despicable creature!" I shouted, finally losing my cool. I rushed at him, rage flowing through my veins. A sheen of red deeper and thicker than any battle trance I've gone through before descended over everything. It was so thick it looked like I was wading through a liquid, though my slashes cut through it like tissue paper. "I CAN'T BELIEVE I KISSED YOU, YOU DISGUSTING POSER!" I shouted, raining down blows on him in a flurry of heated rage, "WHAT. HAVE. YOU. DONE. WITH. AMERICA?"

He smirked, and in a quick motion I didn't see even with my heightened senses, flicked up a hand and grabbed my wrist, stopping the stroke. Somehow he'd drawn up the strength to stop my full-fledged attack. I gritted my teeth, trying to force more energy into the blow and cut through the demon who had tricked me into thinking he was the man I loved. I'd actually kissed the bastard!

Then, in a sudden surge of strength, he twisted my wrist, making me drop my katana in a hiss of pain as the bones in my wrist cracked. Then he let go of my hand and let it dangle uselessly at my side. "Step away, Mer," An female voice from behind the evil America said, her smooth tone dripping with false honey, "There's no need to torture the poor girl."

He stepped back, the smirk disappearing from his face, to reveal a tall woman in an old-fashioned red pirate's jacket trimmed in gold and black, brown trousers, and a white linen shirt. She had long, sandy hair pulled back in a messy bun, slate gray eyes devoid of emotion, and a gold hoop in one earlobe. The smirk that 'Mer' had been wearing had been transferred to the woman's face, and from the look on her face it seemed like she was ruling the world, had infinite power, and knew she could do anything she wanted. She was the most confident, self -assured person I'd ever met, and that was coming from someone who'd met the real America.

I heard a sharp intake of breath from behind me. I turned around to find Britain behind me, accompanied by the rest of the major countries. His face was pale, drained of color, and his mouth was slightly open in shock. A mix of terror and hatred was displayed in his face. Unlike the rest of the countries, who were looking confusedly between the woman and 'Mer', Britain was focused only on the woman. "I thought you were gone, sister," He said, his voice cold. The woman raised an eyebrow. "It doesn't seem like you missed me too much, younger brother."

Britain laughed hollowly. "I might have at first, but I've realized since then that your methods, while effective, were too cruel. I was glad to be rid of you, and I still am, just like the rest of the Empires. Haven't you learned, sister? America's gone. Australia and Canada are their own countries. You're dead, British Empire, and no one misses you anymore."


	13. A Bloody Trance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a great battle between the Army of Empires and the Countries, Italy and Portugal are captured by the Empires...

_"Some legends are told_

_Some turn to dust or to gold_

_But you will remember me_

_Remember me for centuries."_

_-Fall Out Boys, Centuries_

 

A scowl transformed my face. If I had disliked Britain, I loathed his sister with a blazing passion. And now that I thought about it, everything fell into place. Prussia wouldn't be able conquer everyone by himself again (certainly not America), so he would need help. And who better than a bunch of revenge-seeking, blood-thirsty Empires to help him capture all the minor countries?

Wait a minute. I searched the major countries. "Where is Portugal?" I shrilled, noting the tears in Italy's eyes.

"Where do you think, little Jew?" British Empire said from behind me. I turned around to find her smirking as she pulled out a bloody dagger from her pocket. She tossed it at my feet. My mouth fell into a perfect O. I fought to hold back angry tears. Portugal was one of the few people I cared about that were left. America was gone, taken by the Empires, and now Portugal was too. "You've crossed the line, bloody Anglo b****," I snarled, and charged at her. I was going to strangle her with my bare hands, if that was what it took to get revenge.

She didn't even have the decency to look fazed. She snapped her fingers. A trapdoor opened up under her feet and she fell down a tunnel. I looked over the edge of the pit, stunned, to find that it was a metal tunnel that curved out of sight. I looked over, and 'Mer' had disappeared as well.

"Israel, get ready!" France shouted as a loud thunder echoed throughout the arena, the floor rumbling under our feet. I spun around and he tossed me one of the two antique fencing sabers he had in his hand. I caught it with the hand that wasn't broken, cradling the excruciatingly painful wrist against my body.

Japan quickly got behind me as Prussia and the British Empire's army began pouring out onto the floor of the arena. I hated this feeling of being weak, of needing someone to help protect me, but at the same time I was grateful. I knew that on my own against such an army with such an injury I wouldn't have lasted long. Then the armies reached us and I saw the horrors that Prussia had filled his army with- ghastly, mutated soldiers.

We fought back to back, everything a whirl of chaotic red. I knocked down each soldier effortlessly, but as many as we brought down there always seems to be more left. My mind concentrated, going into battle mode where my field of vision was bathed in red and it narrowed to focus only on the next soldier, my supersonic limbs only a smoothly operating, robotic extension of my mind.

We defended against the enemy for what feels like eternity, all the while small fires burning around us and cries filling the air. Out of the corner of my eye I saw countries in the stands getting defeated and dragged away from the fighting by the ghoulish enemy.

Then a blood-curdling scream pierced the air, and all the bloodthirsty soldiers disappeared. I looked around. Left behind were Switzerland, Canada, Croatia, Hungary, and I counted how many...four, five, six..."Where are Italy and Portugal?" I shouted. Then I caught sight of Germany, and my heart plummeted.

Germany knelt on the ground, sobbing, and the sight of him tore at my heart. Though I could never truly forget what Germany and Prussia did, I could still feel sorry for a man who had clearly just lost the best friend he had ever had. I knew how he felt- Portugal, one of the few people I cared about, was gone as well.

Croatia's eyes desperately searched the wreckage for someone. When she didn't find whoever she was looking for, she moaned. "Not Sicily," she cries, "Not again. I promised I'd protect her." Then she, one of the most resilient countries I'd ever met, burst into tears. China put a comforting hand on her shoulder, his eyes wet with unshed tears, and I suddenly remembered seeing him and Sicily together a few times over the past month.

Seized by a surge of compassion, I walked forward and placed a hand on Germany's shoulder. I crouched down next to his hunched form, feeling his body shake with sobs. I silently patted him on the back, not exactly sure how to console him. "We'll get them back," I whispered determinedly in his ear, "I know we will."

A sob tore out of his throat. "Just like you'll get back America?" He asked bitterly.

It felt like someone had punched me in the chest while wearing an iron gauntlet, but I managed not to keel over. I stayed where I was, crouching beside Germany. "Yes," I declared, the force of my voice surprising even me, "We WILL get them back."


	14. Revenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Prussia shows up and tries to force Germany into a decision he does not want to make, Croatia and Israel take their long-deserved revenge...

_"With our backs to the wall, the darkness will fall_

_We never quite thought we could lose it all_

_Ready, aim, fire, ready, aim, fire_

_An empire's fall in just one day_

_You close your eyes and the glory fades_

_Ready, aim, fire, ready, aim, fire away (fire!)_

_Ready, aim, fire, ready, aim, fire away..."_

_-Imagine Dragons,_ Ready! Aim! Fire!

 

We gathered around the table in the World Conference Center. It felt so much larger, so much emptier without the loud, outgoing presence of Italy, Portugal, and America. Hungary stood next to me- we'd pushed the chairs away from the table- tear tracks running down her cheeks from eyes that burned with a cold, steel-like hatred. On the other side of me stood Canada, the same hatred burning in his eyes. At first I was shocked, but I then realized that although America might have been very annoying at times, Canada was very protective of his twin brother. I understood that. I'd just found out that Egypt and Palestine had been taken as well. Now I had a much larger stake in this- four people I cared about were gone.

Belarus, Ukraine, and the Baltics were taken by the Soviet Union. Taiwan, Korean siblings, and Vietnam were captured by the Japanese Empire. Palestine, Egypt, and practically all of the Middle East were taken by the Ottoman Empire. India, America, and Australia were kidnapped by the British Empire, Central America and South America was taken by the Spanish Empire, and most of Europe was taken by Prussia. Other, smaller Empires took the rest of the world. All of the rest of the countries had a stake in this; we all had siblings or loves who had been taken.

"Okay," Croatia said, pulling up a map on the touch-screen table. Yes, I just said that. But even though it was really cool, the awesomeness barely crossed my mind. I was beyond the normal fangirling now. Everything was much too dire and important now to focus on such trivial things, "Here are the Empires' house." She pulled up an image of a castle with high walls and turrets made of dark grey stone. I saw a shudder pass through her, the slightest flicker of fear and disgust. I remembered one of America's last stories- Croatia had been handed over to Prussia by Serbia, and when Britain had been offered the choice to give up himself instead of her he had chosen to save himself. I looked over at him, reminded of what a bloody back-stabber he was. Though I did admit that his sister was worse, he wasn't much better. I knew that he had been trying his best lately but I still wouldn't trust him with my life.

"Okay, so where do we sneak in?" I said. As different strategies ran through my head, an ironic thought bubbled up in my mind. Surrounded by former major world powers, the two minor countries of Croatia and Israel were taking the helm and leading the group. It was an interesting and welcome change.

"We don't," Croatia smiled grimly, giving me a pointed look, "We fight. We attack hard, and we attack fast."

"We take advantage of each of our strengths, like you guys did during World War III," I replied, a particular strategy forming in my mind. I knew that when they had tried it the first time Croatia had been kidnapped by Serbia and betrayed by Britain, but I wasn't going to make the mistake of trusting anyone to have my back. Though my friendships with Croatia, France, and Japan were growing, and Hungary and Canada weren't all that bad, I couldn't trust anyone. They'd either betray me or waste my emotions when they got captured by Prussia. Though I was going into this to save the people I cared about, I wasn't going to make the mistake of opening up again. It hurt too much to lose someone you cared about, and everything had been much better when I hadn't cared about anyone but my people.

She nodded. "You'll be in the air force, with me, Canada, and Germany. Britain, Japan, and Hungary will go in with their Navy, and the rest of the countries will go in with the land soldiers."

I looked around the table. The same expression was carved into everyone's faces- a look of grim determination tainted by varying amounts of fear and hatred reflected in countries' eyes.

"We'll need a little while to gather the troops," China spoke up. I nodded at him, and he left with Japan and Russia.  
Hungary put a hand on Switzerland's shoulder. "Switz, I have something of Lichtenstein's I want to show you." Then they left as well. Britain and France followed them, talking quietly.

Then it was just Canada, Croatia, Germany, and I left. I noticed that Canada was completely solid, not a drop of his normal invisibility left. Did war make Canada show up better? I pocketed that theory away for later.

"So, what should I can I do to help, America? I'll do anything to help my brother." He asked, turning to me. I was a bit surprised that he had asked me instead of Germany or Croatia, who'd he'd probably had more experience with.

"You can get ready with the three of us. After all, we'll all have to coordinate our attacks." Canada nodded in affirmation, then we got down to work.

We used Croatia's map to order our forces, changing our positions and attack movements until we had a well-developed plan. We got really into it, diving into the planning and forgetting for a little while about the war, the fear, and the grudges, and just forgetting everything except the planning before us. It was kind of like being a human again and playing Risk.

Suddenly the screen went black, then transformed into the face of Prussia. Canada stumbled back in shock. Prussia chuckled darkly from the screen. "Let me show you your friend, Germany," He said. Then he snapped his fingers and his image disappeared, switching to a video feed of two young men with large, heavy cuffs encircling their hands, connected to long, thick chains leading to the wall. A dim square of light came down from a small window crossed with bars high up in the wall.

Suddenly a door behind the camera's point of view opened up, throwing light onto the prisoners. One young man looked up, his face bleary. Germany gasped in horror as he recognized the familiar sharp features and brown curl that the two prisoners shared. Croatia put a hand on Germany's shoulder in an effort to comfort him.

"What do you want, British Empire?" Romano asked, a tone of disgust flooding his voice as a silhouette appeared over him. I noticed a shadowy body in the corner behind him, as if it had been pushed there to keep the Empires from paying too much attention to it.

I sucked in a breath, hatred coursing through my body as the British Empire's smooth, false-honeyed voice distracted me from those thoughts. I could not put into words just how despicable I thought the woman, how low and dirty she was to me. "Italy, I've decided what to do with you," She said, and the tone of her voice sent a cold trickle down my spine. I shuddered.

The other young man in the cell looked up at the person casting the silhouette, and I saw that it was Italy. His lower lip was trembling, and I could see a tear gathering in the corner of his eye. He looked scared. "Get up," the British Empire ordered, and Italy stumbled to his feet. I could see pain in his face, and I noticed a limp in his right leg.

The British Empire stepped into the view of the camera, and I heard the ominous click of a gun as she pointed it at Italy. The video paused, focused on Italy's terrified face, but Prussia's voice asked Germany a question. "Who would you choose, Germany? Your friend, or your lover?"

I heard a small choking noise behind me and spun around. There stood Prussia, a knife to Croatia's throat and insanity in his eyes. He'd snapped, and at first I was extremely worried for Croatia's life. Then I looked closer. Her expression was one of terror, but a fire blazed in her eyes. I smirked inwardly. Prussia, consumed by revenge, had underestimated the stubborn female country, and he was about to lose.

"So, little bruder, what will it be?" Prussia hissed. I watched Germany's face. He was about to give himself up, I could tell.

"Neither!" Croatia cried, then swung her elbow up and smashed it into Prussia's nose with a satisfying crack. She knocked the knife away as he staggered back.

Red filled my vision as I spun forward and landed a roundhouse kick in Prussia's temple. If he hadn't been knocked out by Croatia's elbow to the nose, then my shot would definitely be lights out for Prussia. He fell to the floor with a resounding thud.

The red faded as Germany angrily walked up to Prussia's unconscious form. Germany kicked Prussia once visciously in the side and spat, "That's for Italy, you %$^@%*#!"


	15. The True Identity of Holy Rome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Croatia, Germany, Canada, and Israel discover what really happened to Holy Rome...

Germany bent over and turned Prussia's body over. He searched through his pockets, and as Croatia watched he straightened up, holding a shiny, narrow object in his hand. Croatia noticed a tear trickling down his face.

"What's that?" She asked.

"It's a key." He held it up, and pointed to a carving on the side. "See zhis? It says Keller- zhe German word for basement."

"Do you think it means your basement?" Croatia asked.

"Ja," He replied, and then turned and nearly ran to the door, hurrying to get to his destination. Croatia ran after him. Canada and Israel exchanged a look, then hurried after them.

 

They reached a door in the basement. Canada held up the flashlight he'd grabbed along the way, shining the light on the rusty doorknob and knob. Germany inserted the key into the keyhole. Then he turned it, and with a click the door opened.

The light from Canada's flashlight spilled across the room, dimly illuminating a small cage in the corner of the room. A small shadowy figure crouched in the corner, covered in black cloth. Germany's heart plummeted- the form was too small to be Italy. Shadows coated the room, wavering and flickering with the flame of the lamp.

"Hello?" Germany called, "Ve've come to rescue you, whoever you are."

"I don't believe you, Prussia," A boy's voice called out, despair filling his voice. Germany realized that this was the tone of someone who had given up all hope, who had lost the will to go on. His voice was defeated, like he knew he would never win again. "I know no one is coming to save me."

"I'm not zhat @#!$&%, Prussia!" Germany hissed, raging through gritted teeth. Then he softened. "It's okay, young man. Ve're here to save you." He gestured for Canada to shine the light of the flashlight closer to the keyhole. He slid it in and turned the handle. The rusty door swung open.

"Little boy?" He asked, "You can come out now-" He was cut off by a blur of darkness that rushed out of the cage and nearly bowled him over. Canada shone the flashlight over in their direction. The little boy buried his head in Germany's shoulder, tears dripping into Germany's green jacket. Germany patted the little boy's matted blond hair, soothing him.

"Don't worry," He said in an uncharacteristically soft tone of voice, "I won't ever let that disgusting country get near you again."

"Promise?" The boy asked, his voice muffled by the fabric of Germany's jacket.

"I promise," He said, and the three countries around them knew that this promise was one Germany would never, ever break.

The boy looked up at Germany, and at the sight of the boy's familiar wide blue eyes and rounded features Germany's missing memories clicked back into place, the holes in his mind filling up. He knew then without a doubt that he was not Holy Rome, nor had he ever been.

"Is that you, burder?" He asked, his voice filled with wonder.

"Ja, bruder," The boy nodded.

It was a strange thing, being with the twin brother who was at the same time looked years younger but was centuries older, by founding date at least. A wave of black hatred filled Germany's field of vision for a moment, and he vowed that he would spend every moment he had left to live taking down Prussia. He would die to destroy Prussia, if that's what it would take- as long as he got revenge for everyone that man had ever hurt, and it was a very, very long list. Prussia was no longer worthy to be called his brother- he was a demon that had to be destroyed.


	16. Ambushed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The countries attack Prussia's castle, and Israel's plane gets shot down right next to the walls...

" _Live free or die_

_for death is not the worse of evils."_

_-_ Harrison Bergeron _, the film_

 

Having such heart-wrenching displays of love around me was not helping with the whole plan to never feel empathy for anyone ever again. I found myself full of doubt while watching Holy Rome and Germany's touching reunion. Maybe I wasn't cut out for closing myself off to the world- maybe America and Portugal's influence had softened my heart beyond any recognition.

I felt almost sorry when I had to break them off. "Germany?" I said softly, "I'm sorry to break off this family reunion, but we have to go and fight Prussia. Remember, we have to rescue Italy."

At the sound of Italy's name Holy Rome shot up out of Germany's arms, his eyes wide. "Prussia has Italy?" He cried, his voice shot through with terror and hatred.

"Ja. I'm sorry, bruder," Germany said apologetically. I could tell h was about to start tearing up again.

"Well then, we have to save her!" Holy Rome declared.

The four of us fixed him with an odd look. "HER?" We cried in unison, confused.

"My love, the beautiful Italy," he replied, perplexed by our expressions.

His statement froze us in our tracks. He didn't know that Italy was actually a guy yet, and we weren't sure how to break the news to him.

And then Canada strode forward, showing a confidence I didn't know he had, and put a hand on Holy Rome's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Holy Rome," He said quietly, "But Italy's actually a boy."

We stood and stared at him in shock. We had been trying to figure out how to do it without hurting Holy Rome's feelings, how to do it delicately, but Canada had just strode in there and bluntly told Holy Rome the truth. And you know what? I think that shocking Holy Rome was actually the best strategy. Bluntness would allow him to get over it quicker, I thought.

"Italia's a boy?" Holy Rome asked, shocked. We nodded, unsure how to loosen our tongues and respond.

"Well, that makes a lot of sense now," He remarked after recovering from his shock.

We froze. "What?" I cried.

"Well, girls have never really been my type," Holy Rome admitted, drying the tears from his face. He spoke calmly, without a trace of embarrassment in his voice which I found a bit interesting. Homosexuals had been even more discriminated against the last time he had seen the outside world. How in the world was he admitting it to us without any sign of self-consciousness or mortification?

Then he turned and looked at me. I wasn't entirely sure why, but I did understand the barely disguised glimmer of hatred in his eyes, as we both directed our hatred toward the same person. "Israel, how do we do this?" He asked, determined.

I smiled. I'd finally met someone just as motivated as I was, and who cared if he was my ten-year-old cousin? He understood how I felt, and I could trust him to do anything to save our friends.

And now that I thought about it, this couldn't have ended up any better. Once we defeated Prussia and returned to our semi-normal lives, Italy and Holy Rome could finally have the happily-ever-after they deserved.

 

As I was climbing into the cockpit of my plane someone grabbed my hand. I looked down to find Canada standing there looking up at me. "Israel?" He asked, and I caught a strain of unease in his voice.

"Yeah, Canada?" I replied. As much as I wanted to stop and comfort him, we has to leave before Prussia could strike again. "I was just wondering. How did Holy Rome stay alive all these years? If we're all countries, then how is he still here?"

His question stopped me dead in my tracks. I realized that when we'd found Holy Rome I'd been thinking about us all in terms of people, not countries. How was Holy Rome still alive? He should have faded years ago.

"I don't know, Canada," I replied, "And I hate not knowing, but for know we have to focus on the battle ahead. I'm sorry, but for now Germany will have to take care of Holy Rome. I have no time to think about such things."

He nodded, looking crestfallen. For that moment I just wanted to jump down, hug him, and tell him that everything would be alright, but I couldn't. We didn't have the time.

"We have to go, Canada. Go get into your plane and get ready," I said, then tore away from his grip and slipped on my piloting goggles over my eyes as he walked away. I hated to diss someone on my team, especially such a nice guy as Canada, but we had to get this done. We'd been delaying for too long. Sure, it had been nice to find Holy Rome, but we had to save the rest of the world from being ruled by that bloodthirsty Prussia again. We couldn't afford any more distractions.

 

I turned my plane into a dive to avoid the bullets from one of Prussia's pilots. He followed closely behind, and when I was about to hit the waves of the ocean near Prussia's mansion I pulled sharply out of the dive. The sound of an explosion thunders from behind me. One down, fifty gajillion to go.

Britain's voice crackled over the com set. "Prussia's mansion is right up ahead, Israel," he said.

"Got it," I replied, and angled the plane downwards toward the mansion. I had this. I would do anything to get into there and save the rest of the countries.

suddenly a missile showed up on the radar. Crap, I thought, and angled out of the way, but then I saw that it was changing its trajectory, following me and constantly decreasing my lead. Only one way out of this...I set the plane on autopilot, unbuckled, and grabbed my parachute. I strapped it on and jumped just as the missile struck the plane.

I shot down, then pulled the ripcord on the parachute once I got close enough to the ground. I drifted down to the ground, the sounds of the air battle fading away slightly behind me. The red sheen faded a bit, but not entirely. It was a new experience- my senses were enhanced, but not to the maximum potential. 

Then I landed on the ground, my parachute collapsed backwards into the moat (I was on the inside of it, closer to Prussia's castle), and as I set about unstrapping myself I began to plan my next move.


End file.
